


In the Winter Woods

by lyricwritesprose



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: In which Rory puts his legionary skills to good use. Christmas-y fluff.





	In the Winter Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a stocking stuffer for canaana. Brit-picking and comma-herding by Persiflage.

Stalking an alien through an unfamiliar winter forest was made easy by the snow, and even easier when the trees sprouted Christmas ornaments every time they were brushed against.

All right, _technically_ they weren't Christmas ornaments. Apparently. But the explanation of what they actually were had devolved into words like "botany-wotany," and random rhyming words meant there was no more useful information on tap. Believe me, I know the signs. The important thing, at the moment, was that the silver globes were even easier to spot from a distance than the tracks were.

I moved as silently as I could. I didn't know if I would get another shot at this. I wasn't particularly well-armed; one toss, and I'd be _unarmed._ Not, the legionary in me whispered, the most advantageous position.

And then there was a clearing ahead of me, and what looked like leafless bushes of some sort, different from the ubiquitous silver-globed trees. I moved slowly. There was something not right about this setup . . .

One of the bushes had been bent down. There was a snowball nestled in a fork near the top. Disturb the branch that was keeping it—barely—pinned, and it would act like a medieval catapult. The trajectory, I knew without even trying to visualize it, would put it right at Rory-nose-height.

I looked heavenward, very briefly, and that was when someone pasted me in the back of the head with a snowball.

I yelped and spun around. The Doctor, of course, grinning like the universe's happiest lunatic. "Misdirection," he said smugly. "Never fails."

Fair enough, score one for him. I lifted my own snowball, well aware that he could duck it. He'd actually been fast enough to whirl around and _catch_ Amy's first shot, which would have looked considerably more badass and impressive if it hadn't been, y'know, a _snowball,_ which disintegrated on impact and poofed snow all over his face. But he wasn't going to make the same mistake again. This time, he was ready.

So I toed the trip-branch to the improvised catapult. The branch whipped up, the snowball came loose, and sailed into his face just like poetry in motion.

"Over-engineering," I said. "Always backfires." And then, while he was still spluttering, I rushed forwards and seized my prize. _"Amy! I've got the hat!"_

I created quite a few Christmas ornaments myself, running full-pelt through the forest pursued by a relentless alien and clutching what was frankly the most ghastly pink and yellow bobble cap in the history of time. And then got into a very snowy three-way scrum when Amy decided that I was too good a target to resist. And after _that,_ there was cocoa.


End file.
